


New Orleans

by PlayingChello



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, RSUTPS universe, allusions to past abuse, enjoy, hey I'm back with porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 00:45:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16336526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: Nero doesn't really like where they've ended up tonight, but that doesn't mean that he can't have a nice surprise waiting for Dante when he comes back.





	New Orleans

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Riding Shotgun Underneath the Purple Skies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453955) by [bluefisted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefisted/pseuds/bluefisted), [PlayingChello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello). 



> Guess who's back after a really long hiatus! And with some DMC porn cuz I know that's what everyone wants. Plus with the new game (finally) a real thing, thought I should get back in. Also this is unedited because I can't be assed.  
> This is in the universe of RSUTPS but I wrote it alone this time.  
> Prompt/idea from tumblr user [nightwolf111798](http://nightwolf111798.tumblr.com) (ao3 user [Slytheringirl98](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytheringirl98/pseuds/Slytheringirl98)).

Nero’s not so sure he really likes Louisiana. It’s hot and humid and a bit too close to Oklahoma for his tastes. But Dante wanted to explore New Orleans after their adventure in New York and it doesn’t really matter where they are. He’s with Dante and with Dante he’s safe. Even in Oklahoma, Nero doesn’t have to worry anymore.

But they won’t go back there. Because if they do, they’ll both end up running from warrants for murder charges. And Nero honestly has no desire to see the people that made his life hell. Even if they wind up dead at the end of it all. He’s past that part of his life. He has Dante now. And they have the open road and whatever poker games Dante drags them into to fund their trip.

New Orleans has been a lot of the same things as everywhere else, but with that cajun twist. Lots of booze, lots of cards, and the inside of a lot of low tier motels.

Those are Nero’s favourite.

Tonight, Dante has found them a par for the course seedy place just outside the French Quarter. Nero is sitting alone in the room while Dante is out on a booze run, because ‘you can’t be in New Orleans and be out of Jack.’ Nero doesn’t mind. It’s an opportunity to do a little something special.

Like don a few burlesque pieces he picked up on Bourbon Street. Nero knows how much Dante appreciates when he gets dressed up in a pair of thigh highs. But this pair includes a fringe waist wrap and a pair of lace panties that don’t contain him very well but sure look and feel really nice.

And to top it all off, the jacket Dante gave him so many years ago, when they met. It doesn’t really go with the ensemble, but hell if Nero is going to leave it off. Especially when he knows what seeing Nero in little else does to Dante. He fills it out a bit more than he used to, so it doesn’t hang quite so big on his frame. But it is still too big and one side slips down his shoulder slightly, an effect which Nero uses to his advantage when he poses himself on the bed and waits to hear the distinctive roar of Rebellion to announce Dante’s return.

The purr of the engine can probably be heard in the entire block when Dante pulls back up to the motel. Just as well for Nero, lets him know when he needs to be ready. Plus, that bike is home to him. That bike and the man riding it saved him.

Nero can hear the keycard in the mechanism and the beep of the door before it opens. And then there he is, carrying a bag in one fist and an already open bottle of Jack in the other. “Traffic was hell, seems like there’s somethi-” Dante starts as he tosses his keys onto the motel desk. But he’s cut off when he actually looks at Nero. Then he lets out a low whistle and puts down the bag and the Jack. Nero’s proud to be able to elicit such a reaction from Dante, even still.

“Missed you while you were gone,” Nero says, demurely glancing down at the bedspread below him.

Dante saunters over as he is wont to do, oozing confidence and sex appeal. It’s probably one of the things that attracted Nero to the man in the first place. Actually, it definitely was. Dante is confidence and sex on legs. “Oh, baby, you are a dangerous young thing. You know just how to get what you want.”

Nero can’t help but huff a snort at that. “If that were true, you’d already be inside me.”

In the next moment, Dante is over him and he’s all he can smell. Whiskey and lighter fluid and leather, just like the jacket he wears. That intoxicating smell that has gotten him through the best and worst times. And then Dante’s mouth is roughly working up his neck. “That so? Cheeky little thing, making a lot of demands for someone all breathy underneath me.”

Dante really knows how to push Nero’s buttons. He should, by this point. He really always has, but the years together has only made it worse. Or better. Dante’s voice and lips against his throat has him trying his hardest not to just whine. Not to start begging right then and turn into the needy mess he _knows_ he will be before long.

He feels fingers tracing his hips and then run down over his thighs as Dante explores him. Fingers dance over skin and lace alike, lingering in paces that make Nero shiver. Dante is a maddening tease, but Nero wouldn’t have it any other way. Dante’s fingers are teasing closer to where he actually wants them, but they aren’t making it there and Nero wants to scream. “H’hurry.”

Dante grins. “Oh no, baby. I’m going to take my time with you. You went through all this effort to get so pretty for me, it would be a crime to rip it all off without appreciating all the work.”

This time, Nero does whine. Long and loud. In frustration, in pleasure, he doesn’t even know anymore. His eyes roll back as Dante teases just inside his thighs, almost where he needs friction but not quite. To add even more insult to injury, it is that moment Dante decides to latch his mouth onto one of Nero’s nipples, making him arch his back and moan.

He’s out of his goddamn mind and Dante hasn’t even properly _touched_ him yet. He can’t keep his eyes open even though he wants to stare at how incredible his lover looks over him.

His mouth falls open and words start spilling from his mouth. He squirms desperately while pleases and almosts and come ons spill from his lips. He’s so out of his head that the words making it out of his mouth don’t even register, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying.

“Please, Daddy.”

Suddenly, everything stops. Nero cracks and eye open to find Dante staring at him with an expression somewhere between shock and interest. Nero blinks. Once, twice. And then he realises what he had just said. His cheeks turn an even brighter pink than they already were and he starts to backpedal, stuttering, trying to rectify the _embarrassing_ thing he had just let spill from his lips. “‘M s-sorry. I didn’t- I meant- it’s-”

As Nero flounders for an adequate excuse for why _that_ came out of his mouth, Dante’s own silent lips are spreading into the most lecherous, wolfish grin Nero has ever seen. And when he realises it, it stops him in his tracks. It’s then that he actually takes stock of the situation. Dante is grinning down at him with a look he’s almost never seen. And beneath the harsh feeling of Dante’s jeans pressed against his thigh, he can feel how _painfully_ hard he is.

In any other situation, with any other person, Nero would be horrified. He would be done and creeped out and would leave and never come back. But with Dante he can let his guard down. He can allow himself his darkest desires, and clearly Dante isn’t opposed either. So Nero relaxes. He stops trying to come up with excuses and starts feeling himself falling into a role.

“Please,” and with only a moment’s hesitations, “Daddy.”

There’s no turning back now. And it doesn’t seem like anyone wants there to be. Dante’s thumbs rub circles over his inner thighs while the rest of his hands grip tightly. That grin is still there, even as he leans down and traces kisses down Nero’s abdomen. Even as he bites at the sharp jut of his hip, causing a piercing whine. “Patience, baby. You’ll get what you want.”

And now it’s like a game. Nero squirms in Dante’s grip, trying to find friction but unable to with how Dante holds him down, touching everywhere but where he wants it most.

Just when Nero thinks he can’t stand it anymore, he feels just the slightest brush of fingers against his cock. He keens and arches his back and it feels like the best thing in the world at that moment. Barely a touch but it is everything.

Without warning, Dante has Nero’s panties pulled to the side and is teasing his entrance. Moments later, and he’s pushing a finger in to his first knuckle, and his second, and then a second finger. All without much pause, just the way Nero likes it. His other hand lightly runs over his cock from over the lace of the panties, which barely cover him in the first place. Together, the sensations make Nero nearly black out with the intensity of it all. But he works hard not to, he wants to be _here_ for this.

Somewhere, from across the haze of his mind, Nero hears words. Dante, speaking to him. “Oh, baby, such a beautiful thing you are. What pretty noises you make. Tell me who they’re all for?”

It takes monumental effort for Nero to work his lips and tongue into the shapes required to form words. But Dante asked him a question and hell if he won’t answer. Even when Dante adds a third finger and starts massaging his prostate, he forces himself to respond. “Y-you. All for… you, D-daddy.”

“That’s my good boy.” The words practically make Nero melt. The praise has him willing to do just about anything, but Dante doesn’t want him doing. He just wants him feeling. He’s got him stretched open and wanting, teasing at his prostate in uneven intervals to keep him guessing. Nero can’t relax into it, he can’t anticipate so he just has to let it happen.

Dante is speaking, but Nero can’t really understand the words anymore. He’s lost to sensations. The feeling of fingers inside him, the way the lace slides on his skin, the comfortable feel of the leather jacket beneath him, the smell of sex, the slick of sweat. It all culminates into one moment of overstimulation. And it is _perfect_.

He doesn’t know how long this goes on for, but suddenly, his legs are lifted and he feels dreadfully empty. His senses return in a hazy manner and he sees Dante staring down at him, looking slightly concerned despite Nero’s legs hooked over his shoulders and his clothes finally off. A tender hand comes up to cup his face, “Baby, Nero, you good? You ready?”

Nero almost doesn’t understand the question. How long has he been whining and begging for this? How much more can he beg? Of course he’s ready. He was ready before Dante came in the room. But he realises his absence during Dante’s painfully slow preparation may have raised flags. Nero doesn’t check out during sex with Dante, that was a defense mechanism he has long since forgotten. And while he wasn’t checked out, he can see how Dante may have thought he was. So he turns his head, kisses Dante’s palm, and nods. “Yeah, ‘m good. Just… feeling a lot. Don’t stop, please.” His voice is breathy and quiet, but the words make it out alright.

Finally, Dante grins. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” And with that, he holds the lace panties aside and lines himself up. In one swift motion, Dante seats himself entirely within Nero. Nero doesn’t even feel a burn this time, Dante spent so long stretching him. But that’s alright. It’s still so much more than fingers could ever get him ready for. It still knocks the breath from his lungs and makes him reach for Dante to ground himself in reality. It’s still _good_. More than good. And he makes sure Dante knows with a litany of ‘yes’s and sounds. Hell, the whole motel probably knows how good Nero feels in that moment with how loud he gets with Dante completing him, making him whole.

After barely a moment of pause, Dante starts moving. He knows how Nero would rather feel a bit of burn and pain than take the time to adjust. It gets him off, he loves the pain mixed with the pleasure of sex. And Dante sets a brutal pace. They’re both making quite the racket, now. And Nero can’t believe they have yet to be honest to goodness kicked out of a motel for their shenanigans. But that doesn’t matter now. Dante is making the bed hit the wall with every thrust and Nero’s head is hitting the headboard and it’s making him see stars.

But the picture isn’t complete yet.

He knows it, and so does the man above him, wrecking him but not doing what Nero so desperately needs. Again, Nero tries to work through the fog of pleasure and the thick slosh of his mind to form words. They don’t really come out right, so he grabs Dante’s wrist and pulls at it, trying to tell him what he wants.

But Dante doesn’t move. He grins, which makes Nero sure he knows but is just waiting. For what he can’t imagine, but something. There’s something he wants out of Nero before he gives him that last bit of help over into orgasmic bliss. Nero’s nails rake over Dante’s skin where they meet, trying for purchase, for grounding, for anything at all. His moans are half formed pleading cries. A ‘please’ or ‘more’ might make it passed his lips but mostly he just manages syllables.

“Da-” Nero tries to create a word in his brain and tries to send it to his mouth, tries to make his vocal cords work properly. But it’s so _hard_ with Dante inside of him, brutal and perfect. He’s got the angle just right and it makes every other sound Nero makes a gasp. But he tries again. “Da- Dan-” And then he changes his mind. Or maybe his brain just doesn’t listen to him, maybe it’s just instinct. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. Because it works. “Da-Daddy!”

Nero can practically feel Dante get impossibly bigger inside him. He knows it can’t be true, that it can’t really have happened. But it still feels like there’s just a little extra stretch. But his mind blanks and he stops wondering when Dante’s hand finds his throat and squeezes just so. Cuts off just enough blood to make his head actually fuzzy and his eyesight cloud a bit. And that sends him over. That it all he needs to finally release the pent up coil he’s been feeling since Dante walked in the room.

The lace is probably ruined, and there’s sticky wetness atop the sweat on his abdomen. And Dante is still going. When Nero’s mind clears a bit from the come down, he makes all these little whines from the overstimulation.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, baby. Just a little more. Almost there.” Dante’s hand is caressing Nero’s face and he’s whispering sweet reassurance while Nero almost chokes on his whines. It’s the only thing that keeps him sane while Dante works through until he, too, finally slams in one final time. Lips meet and it’s the sweetest taste Nero has ever had.

Time becomes nebulous as they hold one another, joined in post-coital bliss, kissing and whispering their love to one another. Eventually, Dante pulls himself free of Nero and rolls over so they’re laying next to one another. He heaves a loud sigh and turns his head toward Nero. “Wow, kid. Never knew your daddy issues ran that deep.”

Nero hits him before getting up and claiming the shower, locking Dante out of the bathroom to suffer alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/playingchello).


End file.
